


Musk

by yeaka



Category: Travelers (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 05:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21156671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Marcy questions Philip’s choices.





	Musk

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Travelers or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He’s only just gotten in when Marcy’s voice calls, “Philip?”

He pauses, then keeps walking towards his room, only for Marcy to emerge from it. She doesn’t normally go in there, but he doesn’t begrudge her for it—it’s the only _real_ place to take a nap, besides the dilapidated couches, though his battered cot’s not much better. There’s no way his place is more comfortable than David’s. But it is their base of operations, and they all have the right to come and go. Marcy blocks the doorway, holding up an old biker jacket that’s coming apart at the seams. 

Philip grinds to a halt. He takes a shuddering breath without meaning to, reacting to the sea of pheromones trapped in that one bundle of fabric. Macy lifts it and asks, with no small amount of accusation in her voice, “What’s this?”

That should be obvious. But Philip has a hard time answering. He opens his mouth, but just closes it again and looks away. Marcy adds, “It _reeks_ of alpha. And _not_ one of ours.”

Philip fumbles with a few answers before muttering, “Heats suck—” She sighs, she _knows_, but she can’t really understand, because she gets to go home to a nice alpha with a clean apartment that probably pets her and brings her water any time she so much as shivers. 

She cuts in, “Look, I know your withdrawals make it worse, but that’s no excuse—”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“Whose is it, Philip?”

With a defeated sigh, Philip glances sideways. He can’t meet her eyes, but he admits, “It’s Ray’s.”

“Who’s Ray?” She actually sounds confused.

He tries not to be defensive when he provides, “The guy who bought us this place.”

If anything, that just makes Marcy look even more concerned. “You brought a twenty-first-er here?”

Definitely defensive, Philip shrugs. “He owns it. He already knows.”

“I thought you were getting the money.”

“I did. But he had the records and the connections...”

Marcy lets out a breath that makes it sound like he’s being deliberately obtuse. She shakes her head and tells him, “Just get rid of it. Get rid of _him._ Get something from Trevor or Carly. They’ll help.”

Without waiting for an answer, Marcy tosses the jacket back into the room. Philip can hear it softly landing on his mattress. Then she’s passing him and leaving, apparently done with whatever she came for. Philip stays, because he’s never had anywhere better to go.

He wanders into his bedroom. It smells fractionally different for having had another omega around, but Marcy’s scent is too tidy and sweet to linger long in such a dirty environment. Philip’s own scent overpowers it. 

He tentatively lifts the jacket up. It still stinks, too sweaty and dominant to be swayed at all by whatever other omega picks it up. Philips presses the worn faux-leather to his face and breathes it in—it’s like an alpha’s standing right next to him, embracing him protectively. It’s like _Ray’s_ holding him. He knows Ray’s not ideal. He knows either Trevor or Carly would help him in a heartbeat. 

But he already likes _this_ one. 

So he keeps it.


End file.
